In My Defense

 
Okay. I know what you’re all thinking, and I honestly DID NOT know. Really. No clue.
 
 
Yeah, that’s not my hand (notice the long fingernails?) and that’s not the stick I peed on (who takes pictures of that?) but the results? Are the same. I know it sounded like I was dropping hints in my last blog, but I so totally wasn’t. I’m pretty floored.
 
What many people might not know is that we were not not trying, since about September. But with Caleb’s insane travel and my super-stingy ovaries, I figured it was a long shot. A really, really, really long shot. Like maybe the planets had to align. And after long months of no action stemming from our…action…Caleb and I were pretty much ready to close up shop. Plus I was scared–what about craniosynostosis? What if the next baby has it and it’s worse this time? What about facial deformities? And where in the world are we going to put one more kid?
 
For me to be 3 or 4 weeks late is not out of the ordinary. Actually, it’s weird when things are right on schedule. So after I took yet another negative pregnancy test last week, I resigned myself to being the best damn mother of three a woman could be. I went about my business, feeling very much not-pregnant and actually, thinking that I would start any minute.
 
But yesterday, at church, I started to feel a little ill. By the time we got back to the house, I was doing everything I could not to throw up. And that feeling went just as fast as it came. I chalked it up to my annoying stomach and my ridiculous coffee habit. But, because I was almost 3 weeks late, and just to be on the safe side, and since I had 1 more extra test, I peed. And I read a magazine. And I walked away for a while. I was truly stunned when I saw that positive pregnancy test–and this time, Caleb got to partake in my stunned-ed-ness no less than 2 minutes after it had initially set in.
 
We told our parents, our brothers and sisters. And then, at dinner, we told the kids. Mia was over the moon–still is. Cheyenne was less than thrilled. She rolled her eyes, scowled, and asked to be excused from the table.
 
Ouch.
 
Merrick didn’t seem to care one way or another.
 
I told jokes to Cheyenne throughout the night to lighten up the mood: "Hey Cheyenne! Now instead of counting sheep at night, you can just count little kids! Hey Cheyenne! We can have our own show!"
 
"Yeah, Mom. That’s a great idea! We can call it ‘Kids in the Closet’. "
 
And then Mia broke into an American-Idol inspired song: "Kids in the closet! Kids in the closet! Lookin’ like a fool wicha kids in the closet!"
 
Cheyenne smiled. I hope she’s resigning herself to being the best big sister of three that she can be.
 
And so, friends, we’re pregnant. I’m thinking I can’t be too far along, and I worry, yes, but I remember something my father-in-law said to me once: "Celebrate. There’s a life there, whether it lasts 8 weeks or 9 months or 20 years." I take that to mean: "Go ahead and tell people." I want to enjoy this whole time for just as long as I can.
 
Phase 1 of my plan to get a bigger car is complete.
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About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

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